Disgrace
by Ally Inu
Summary: The resolution to our relationship was at hand. It was only after the fact that I had realized how much I had foolishly risked. Everything we'd work so hard to make could be gone in a flash. A realistic look at being one of the last femmes OP/OC


Chapter o1

OC/Optimus

Rated M; implied violence, rape and sex.

I really don't really know what brought this on... There was just a spark lurking at the back of my head, begging to be written. This is just a story about a femme, hopelessly embroiled in her emotions and a war that is not her own.

* * *

Being the last of the femmes put a certain obligation on my shoulders. With the Allspark gone, it became an imperative. It was a terrifying absolute; an unavoidable end.

It wasn't _if_ I had sparklings, it was when or with whom. I was lucky enough to make it this far, but it seemed such a pointless journey. Any practical usefulness I had in the army was overshadowed by the fact I could produce more soldiers. Not limitlessly or as quickly as the Allspark, but I could.

I lived in the shadow of the fact I came here to fight, but I'd never set foot in a battle field. I was a terrible soldier to begin with. I wasn't like Arcee, who was all talent and courage. Arcee wasn't weak like me. She was a sure footed fighter. Then again, I didn't have much to fight for. I was just a nobody, with nothing to my name.

I knew my place and function, my rank and designation. I knew what I could do, but it was different from what I was expected to do.

Femmes like me were built with one function in mind.

Simply the fact I could produce more soldiers put me in all sorts of jeopardy. I was guarded closely, at all times. I begun to miss the solitude I had wallowed in while I was in space. At least in space, I didn't have to think about any of my… responsibilities.

I questioned why I came here more and more and… remembered the isolation of space. Though I didn't relish the idea of warfare and sparklings, it was better then spending the last of my years alone.

At least I did something that was worth remembering. At least I did something worth doing. I could never fight a battle or turn the tide of a war, but I knew what I could do. I knew what I was useful for.

My actions were strange even to myself, but I had my spark in the right place. Sometimes I wondered if coming here was right, if I just gave them something else to war over. But it would never be over for them.

I continually put off having sparklings, for obvious reasons. Life was harsh; I could give my sparklings no guarantees. I could die having them, I could end up being killed be it accidentally or not and I could even have them stolen from me. The possibilities were as endless as space herself.

It was horrifying. Alone, I had no chance of keeping them. The universe was cruel, war was cruel, life was cruel and they would not spare me or my sparklings.

I loved sparklings, anyway. I was programmed to. But I could never bring myself to hate my programming, it was simply who I was.

Sparklings were priceless gifts in my mind, each different from the next one. They were rare, even. They were especially rare now, in times of war and desolation.

On the barren wasteland of battlefields, there was hope.

But Megatron would strip them down and warp them into war machines faster then I could produce them. I didn't want that. I'd rather die crushed under his feet then sentence my sparklings to that. Not to mention the implications of actually spark bonding with the monster… It was unthinkable.

Bearing what made me… well, me, the essence of what I was up to that monstrosity made my engine churn. I'd be lucky to survive with even shreds of my sanity intact afterwards, but I knew he would never hurt me physically. That didn't assuage my fears at all… If anything, it fed them.

The nightmare would never end if he ever caught me.

I always knew that if I survived, it would come to this. I grew up during the war, unsheltered. I had no delusions of what my fate would be. Again, it was not if I would accept my fate, it was when.

My sisters… I never found up where they wound up. I hoped they'd eventually make it here, but I never dwelled on it. Dwelling wouldn't make it happen or anything right again. Picking up the pieces was the most logical course of action; I couldn't wait on people that might not even exist anymore. Empty dreams had no place in my processor.

So I moved on.

* * *

I had to pick a mate out of them… I dreaded the choice. It would not only mark me as property, but it was the turning point from where I feared having sparklings to actually having them. There were precious few men there and the sooner I chose the better.

I left my personal feelings out of it. The more I thought over it, the more difficult it became. My emotions would only get in the way and make it harder then it needed to be. But it wasn't going to be like a medical procedure, after all of my efforts there would be _sparklings_ that needed to be _raised_. That would need constant love and affection, tutoring and advice, help and forgiveness.

They would grow into adults like me and I could only hope their sire would be proud of them. They could transform into anything they like, take on any designation, I just wanted them to grow up well.

I didn't really know how they would grow up. Well, I knew how they grew up, I just didn't know how well. If they would grow up adjusted and loved. The uncertainties boggled my processor, weighing me down further. The longer I waited, the more time it would be to produce sparklings.

Time was precious.

I made my choice carefully, out of whom I thought would make the best sire. If anything ever happened to me, I would trust them, putting my sparkling's lives into their hands.

He'd agreed, of course. Obliging and good natured, there was never a hint of regret or denial in his voice. This was just as much an obligation for him as it was for me. I felt regret for him and myself.

But why was I whining pathetically over myself?

I still felt like I was being cheated. I was cheated out of a spark mate, he was cheated out of one as well – my sparklings were cheated, but primus I would love them, for it was not their fault! – I just felt like this was wrong.

This forced hope, this tainted miracle… I felt like I was pushing life onto the world.

He'd wrap his arms around me, and whisper sweet nothings in my ear. I'd never listen; I didn't like being lied to. I knew about his spark mate and how she was in the well of all sparks. I felt jealous that he had one, jealous he had another before me and he'd be all I ever had. I was jealous of their love, jealous of something dead and gone.

She'd still hold monopoly over his spark, now and forevermore. I couldn't make him love me and he couldn't make me love him. Not that he ever would, or I ever would. If we did, it would just make things so much easier. _If_ we did.

Our bond was just convenient.

He'd hold me close and it felt nice. I felt selfish, taking enjoyment out of this… I'd made the right choice, I knew, but it didn't sit right.

The first time he'd touch me was… surprising. It changed me completely.

He'd never once made a move towards my spark chamber, just languidly touching me, getting to know my ins and outs. It was indulgence, slow and sweet. I'd returned the gesture, unsurely and awkwardly. He'd appreciated the notion more then the act, but I didn't let my pride get in the way. I'd get better in time.

He'd managed to return something to me as well. Something that I had lost the moment I came online a femme.

My sense of self worth.

He'd reminded me of what I deserved. Of the kind of maddening love that sparkmates really shared. He'd shown me what I needed to see; he'd shown me the world outside my spark chamber.

He'd made me remember I'm more then a machine.

I remembered the simplest of pleasures. The feeling of what it was to be loved for _who_ you were, not _what_ you were…. even if it was just borrowed. Misplaced, even.

A treacherous thought crossed my mind.

_Maybe I could learn to love him._

He'd cry his sparkmate's name, and I'd forgive him… As long as he'd give me my few allowances. He'd even been gracious enough to overlook my grievous mistake of falling in love.

With him.

Everything would come in due time.

_I hoped._

* * *

I kept hoping and dreaming…. It was my own personal rebellion. Against the countless cruelties time dealt me, against the fate I was given. He clung to it as well, this audacious hope. Some people would laugh at hope and dreams after all this time at war, but there wasn't anything else left, really. Not much else left to fight for, at least.

It was something deeply personal that I had cultivated in my spark, something I shared with him. He'd been both surprised and delighted; to see the vigor I still invested into my life. I made plans for the future when some doubted they would see the next sunrise, I discussed theories that had been long forgotten, about things other then the science of warfare. I traded stories about my life and shared everything I had. Everything I had was his, down to my very spark. All of it.

It was his, shamelessly and relentlessly. I hid nothing, not my fears or my doubts. I unraveled before him like a tapestry. Occasionally, he would share his pain as well and I would simply listen. I would just receive, nonjudgmental and quiet.

I would assure him that he was still alive. That he still had something, a tangible purpose, to live for. It was something to hold onto, far beyond the cause and his men, beyond the war and all the slanderous glory. After a particularly harsh battle or loss, he'd cling to me in a desperate frenzy to prove that _he_ was still alive and to prove that _I_ was still alive. It left me exhausted entirely, latching onto him to stop the bleeding inside.

It was an impossible battle, beyond the metal demons and cruel intentions. I could not save him from himself. Every day on the battlefield he would die a little more, and at night, he would bleed in my arms. I would hold him close and whisper sweet nothings. I didn't like lying, but it seemed nothing I would ever do would affect his pain.

The constant weight of being leader, of making do or die choices, was killing him.

It was more effective then poison and time combined. But I couldn't stop it.

Could I?

He'd never consider himself mighty or glorious, but… he never left a man behind. When I saw his selflessness, the depth of his love and his spark, I'd always see the greatest thing that'd _ever_ lived.

* * *

I reminded him of his dreams, as well. The dream of making a future worth fighting for, of making things right and restoring what had been lost. Of hearing new voices rise up, of remembering the voices that would never be heard again.

His dreams seemed like a far away haze, compared to the depth of his pain. He was deep and thoughtful, always looking as deeply inwards as possible for the answers. He searched the depths of his spark for profound meaning and moral, for justice and light. He lived richly and deeply, accepting things slowly. His spark never burned the brightest, just the slowest.

His pain was deep and old, stemming from days long lost and ways long forgotten. From the golden, most opulent years of Cybertron to it's energon stained decline. It was during his reign that it had fallen apart – given the most cruel view – to watch his home _divide_. It was splitting, splitting into fighters and pacifists, into gun fights and treaties.

I'd only ever seen its ruins, never its beauty. It was never actually home for me, just the place I was created. I never understood the loss I never felt. It exaggerated the difference in times; it highlighted what separated me and him.

During a particularly harsh battle where even my hopes were being shattered, my blunder came to light. Something smoldered in his eyes that I had not yet seen, and it had terrified me.

The resolution to our relationship was at hand.

It was only after the fact that I had realized how much I had foolishly risked. Everything we'd work so hard to make could be gone in a flash. Our carefully crafted relationship, fragile as it was, was tested to its limits. We could have gone on with our charade, forever if need be. Forever unsatisfied, unreciprocated, unrequited and unsure.

But that wasn't the future I wanted. Not for me, not for _us_.

How long could he die…? How long could I _lie_? Lie to myself, lie to him, and even lie to the coming sparklings? I wasn't a liar. Neither was he.

When he looked me in the eye and gave me my answer, it wasn't anything I expected. It was more then I had ever hoped for, or deserved.

_It was everything I needed._

* * *

_The End_

R&R, please and thank you. = )


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